Temporal Side: Not The Average Faerie Tale
This is an original story that is to be cowritten by Kira (SweetSeaWater) and I. We will be switching off every chapter or so then smoothing the writing so our styles flow better. Hope you like it. Please comment with honest opinions.
The Journey Into the Temporal Side
Bored, I twirl a strand of wavy lavender hair around my index finger, marveling slightly at the contrast in colors from my hair to the chlorophyll tinted skin. Soon I will never be bored again, free from these halls.
"Waverly, Waverly do come here," a woman in an elegant pale pink gown hustles over to me, leaving the Queen's chamber, stirring me from my daze. I bite my lip, barely suppressing a groan.
"Yes, Mother?" I speak politely through clenched teeth. She tuts and starts fixing my hair that has been carelessly pulled from its tediously arranged braid. I swat away her hands. "What do you want, Mother?" I sigh letting my hair fly loose.
"Today is the day! Is it not? You are finally of age, sixteen years today, today is the day you make your choice!" She squeals excitedly before taking my hand and dragging me down the chamber, her pointed ears sticking out past her hair. I roll my eyes.
"Mother, I made my choice years past. I am going on a quest to leave this Court," I make a sharp turn down a moss carpeted hall, scanning the entry way with topaz colored eyes. I smooth out the gown halfheartedly, the spider woven silk like glass under my black painted finger tips.
"But this is your home, where you were raised. Would you truly leave to become part of one of the Unseelie Courts branches or worse yet, a solitary fey? And do stop polluting yourself with items from the Temporal Side," she sighs in exasperation as she looks down at the nail polish on my fingers and the crusted over mascara and glitter on my slightly almond shaped eyes. I pull my hand away from her and fold them behind my back. I will do what I please. She has yet to stop me from it.
"I would rather be a solitary fey than be affiliated with any of the Courts, you look down upon anyone human when in fact they are truly better creatures than any of-," I snarl slightly, defending my choice to leave this place, only to be cut off by the sound of a horn blaring, signaling my entrance into the arena.
I walk slowly, watching the amassed crowd stare at me. I've been in those stands, but now I know how it feels. All eyes on you, watching your every move, scrutinizing you, betting on what you'll decide. The Queen Adelaide sits on the balcony of the cavernous room surrounded by earth, seats carved from roots and stones. She is beautiful, hair as fair as clouds, and skin tinted the green of freshly sprouted grass, her wings trail out behind her, translucent and shimmering with all of the colors in the rainbow in the bright sunlight that pours in through well placed windows in the ceiling. I glance around at the elven guards, large bows and swords strapped for their backs, the handmaidens in fine gowns behind the Queen, the lowest members of the Court, some with fluttering wings, some with eyes as black as night, some small and delicate, others large and nearing the grotesque, yet they have all gathered here to celebrate, not the day of my birth, but the day that could lead to my demise.
"Waverly of the Spring Court, daughter of Elinora and Meirwen, now, on the day of your birth sixteen years past, your choice has come. Either you take your mother's place as a handmaiden in my chambers, or you except a quest to gain your freedom. What will it be?" Her powerful voice is dripping and sweet like honey, coating the room, making everyone want to do her bidding, urging me to accept her first offer. I blink, trying to regain composure, regain control of my own mind, she's strong, a pixie, like myself. I swallow the lump in my throat, looking around at all the fey, my people. The people whom I despise.
"I accept the quest," an audible gasp seems to pour from every member of the crowds lips at once. It is rare indeed that someone choses a quest. They normally are impossible, and if you do not succeed, the only thing that awaits you is death.
She nods solemnly, her lips thinning out in a line. "Your quest is to bring back a human from the Temporal Side, one who is your own age of sixteen years, to take your place in the court. Leave behind the bundle of twigs in its place. You must tell them anything they ask, answer any questions, they must come of their own free will. You have until the next full moon, one months time, if you do no succeed, you will be put to death," her voice has taken on the coldness of ice within a few statements. I nod and bow my head. She snaps her slender fingers and two guards appear at my side to lead me off to my chambers.
"Maybe she will allow you to change your mind, Waverly, please stay, oh your hair," she bemoans, running her fingers through my now jaw-length and choppy hair. My glamour is almost perfect, I look entirely human, the only thing that sets me apart is that I left my hair in its natural purple state and my eyes golden.
"I have made my decision, Mother. I am leaving," I stubbornly say after folding the rest of my things into a small silk satchel. I look down at my apparel, human clothing, all of it I already owned from smuggling it in on my escapades into the Temporal Side, a pair of dark blue denim jeans, a jacket made of leather, a white shirt, made of what feels like cotton, and thick soled boots, combat boots they're called. Strangely, I feel more at home in human clothing than that of the fey.
Hastily, I apply the makeup my mother had made me wash off and I feel as though it's complete, I turn to a full length mirror.
Black makeup rimming my eyes, shining with glitter, lips coated with a ruby red sheen, skin looking pore-less, no longer tinted green, I look like a human girl, not a faerie, not something told in human bed time stories, I look like I've always wanted. Normal.
"I won't see you again. Goodbye Mother," I smile faintly and kiss her cheek before two guards, the same ones from before, come in again, leading me out. I'll miss her, but after Father passed on, she hasn't been the same.
They lead me down the corridors, heading towards the nearest exit, the nearest way to the Temporal Side. "Go on," the first one says, his voice slightly longing, wishing he too could leave, nudging me forward. A faint smile curls up the corners of my lips and I do so, walking forward towards the heavy oak door.
"Wait, take this. Ring it when you have a human willing to come with you and the gateway will reopen," the second guard says, strong hands closing around my slight ones placing a small silver bell into my clasped palms. I nod and slip it into my jacket pocket.
"Goodbye," I say softly, running my fingers over the well oiled handle before letting it melt into my hand as I turn the nob, swinging me forward into nothingness, falling, plummeting.
"Hey, hey!" A boot connects with my side, directly in the ribs, making me wince as my eyelids flutter open in something like rapture, everything seems blurred. I really hate using conventional entryways into the Temporal Side.
"Huh...wah?" I mumble. I look up into the face of a boy with shaggy ink black hair with tips that are dyed bright red. His eyes are dark, the iris seems to melt into the pupil, they are tilted, almost like a fey's and his skin is slightly pale, metal piercings on his eyebrow and ear stand out in the gleaming sun. He looks both agitated and surprised that I'm there.
"You okay?" He grabs my hand and yanks me up to my feet, the soles of my combat boots connecting with a thud. I peer around, trying to figure out where I am. I nod, running through my hands with a start as I vaguely remember having cut it only an hour or two prior. I don't know how long I was out.
"Yeah, yeah," I quickly revert back to my more relaxed form of speaking, less formal, more human. "Um, where am I?" I ask in confusion, rubbing my arm awkwardly. He raises an eyebrow, the one with the silver stud.
"Port Faye, not to far from Charleston. That just have been some rave for you to not know where you are," he chuckles slightly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
"Uh, yeah, some rave," I say confused, the words sounding foreign in my own mouth. "Wait, Port Fey as in F-E-Y?" I try to keep my eyes from bulging out of my head as I stumble across the realization of what he said.
He shakes his head in disbelief. "No, F-A-Y-E, are you all there?" His words are muffled as he places a Marlboro on his lips and flips open the Zippo lighter, placing the flame on the tip.
Coughing, I fan away smoke, how anyone can tolerate that stench is beyond my mental capabilities. "I'm all here," I reuse his phrase as I cough again. He rolls his eyes.
"Not much of a party girl if you can't handle a bit of smoke," he says rudely as he blows a stream of smoke directly into my face.
"No one said I was a party girl," I scowl before starting to walk off, agitated, lost, and reeking of the putrid smell of a cigarette. He stays where he is, leaning on the railing of a dock. So I turned up at the dock, I'd have to keep that in mind.
"The fact that you have purple hair and look a bit green said it for you," he calls over to me. I feel my heart stop when he says green, quickly looking at my skin, checking to make sure my glamours still in place. I don't seem any less human, I try to ignore him but I take a small glance in a storefront window, noticing that my face is greenish, that's when I throw up, weakly stumbling to a trash can just in time.
"Told ya, Party Girl!" He shouts to me again, I hear the taunting evident in his voice.
I feebly groan and wipe my mouth, the malodorous reek of wine on my breath. I had far too much to drink before I came.
A girl walks by me, her skin darkened near a shade of orange, brown hair so sleek and shiny that at first I mistake her for a member of the Autumn Court. "What are you looking at, freak?" She spits out the words, her shoes clicking against the wooden boards as she walks with a cocky sway moving her hips.
My eyes narrow, yeah I'M the freak. I open my mouth to say something when another round of vomit flies up my throat and into the trash.
If I'm going to complete my quest, I have a lot of work ahead of me. I can't keep throwing up at the slightest smell or burning my hands at the slightest touch of iron. I can stand a little, but it hurts, it stings as though I'm being prodded with a burning poker wherever it touches.
I groan again, wiping off my face and smoothing back my hair in a swift motion. "Watch it!" I look up into the broad chest of a boy, maybe a bit older than me. I take a large step back.
"Sorry," I try to keep the venomous edge from my voice as I push past the boy and walk off. Is no one here pleasant?
"You new here?" He looks over his shoulder at me, his piercing blue eyes sweeping over my figure. I swivel back around to face him, raising a delicate eyebrow.
"Yeah, just got here," I slide my hands into the leather pockets of the jacket, feeling the cool silver of the bell brush across my finger tips. He takes a large stride towards me.
"Well," he starts to slide an arm around my shoulder, "a girl such as yourself shouldn't be wandering around alone in a strange place," he smirks to himself as I awkwardly slide from his arm.
"A girl such as me?" I dubiously repeat his phrasing. His eyes glint maliciously as he grabs my wrist, overpowering me and pulling me towards the small alleyway in between two of the dock storefronts.
I try to pull free but his grip is like a vise. "Yeah, some one so fragile looking," he runs his fingers through my hair, tugging it slightly, making me grimace. "Nice hair too, by the way," he presses himself up against me and I try to shove him away, I may be supernatural, but pixies are not known for their strength.
"Get away from me!" I shriek out, frantically moving my limbs and convulsing against him, vainly trying to get him as far from me as possible.
"Get out of here, Jack. Spoiled little rich boy, you can't get everything you want. Now scram," the boy from the dock leans in the alleyway, glaring at Jack as he reluctantly steps away from me.
"Next time mind your own business, Jackie Chan," he spits the words at him. The other boy claps slowly.
"Now you revert to racial slurs, classy," he taps the end of his cigarette, obviously a freshly lit one, shaking the ash into the wood. "And I said scram!" He raises his voice as Jack sulks off.
Shaken up, I brush my self off. "Thank you, really. I'm Waverly," I walk over and extend a hand. He looks down at it then back up at my face, still looking downwards.
"I don't care who you are and I don't want thanks. Just hate brats getting their way," he takes a long drag, "guess I'll see you around Party Girl, try not to get assaulted again," with that he turns and starts walking off, a small bit of a tattoo, something red, peeking up from under his collar.